


Prowl

by wynnebat



Series: Author's Favorites [16]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Full Shift Werewolves, M/M, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 01, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 17:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15393618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnebat/pseuds/wynnebat
Summary: Laura's body is never found, but instead of continuing with his murder spree, Peter gets distracted by the scent of his mate. Stiles getsverydistracted by the huge wolf that starts showing up at his house all the time.





	Prowl

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Steter Week 2018](https://steterweek.tumblr.com/).

It starts the winter of Stiles’ sophomore year of high school, when reports reach the sheriff’s office of wolves in the Beacon Hills preserve. Considering that the only proof the first group of campers has is that they heard a wolf howling but were too scared to leave their tent to see anything, no one particularly believes them. A month later, there’s a second report of a hiker who saw a large shadow and heard a howl. The park services office puts out a message to remind people to be alert and careful during their time in the wilderness. At home, John muses that it could be that there’s a wolf in the preserve, but that it’s much, much more likely that it’s a cougar or another animal. Wolves haven’t been seen in California in decades, although Oregon does have a program in place to reintroduce the species to the area.

Stiles is aware of the minuscule likelihood of success, but he finds himself dusting off his hiking boots anyway. He’s not seeking out danger if the danger probably isn’t real. Besides, it’s not like he’s about to go out and try to pet it. It’s a wild animal. He’s just curious, not stupid. Stiles is so devoted to his quest that he gets up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday, dragging Scott along with him with the promise of getting pancakes afterward.

They find neither the wolf nor any signs of one. At one point, Stiles thinks he sees a dark shape out of the corner of his eye. When he spins around and sees nothing, he decides it’s a trick of the light. He and Scott trudge home empty-handed. Scott bows out of further excursions, but Stiles tries again a few more times to no success.

Eventually, he gives up and hopes the next person who complains of wolves has the presence of mind to snap some photos. His weekend mornings return to times of sleeping in and his nights to playing video games or getting lost in the depths of the internet. On one particular night, Stiles is putting the finishing touches of an embarrassing photoshopped picture of Jackson when he hears a loud sound from outside Stiles’ open window. His first assumption is that some raccoons knocked something over, but he doesn’t get further than standing and taking a step toward the window when something barrels through his window.

“Holy sh—” Stiles gets out before the large, fanged creature knocks him to the ground. He hits the floor hard, too dazed to be thankful for the fact that his parents decided on plush carpeting. Stiles tries to dislodge whatever it is, but it’s too heavy for him to shift. He stops immediately when the creature opens its mouth and presses what feels like very sharp teeth against Stiles’ neck. “No moving, okay, I’ve got it, still as a corpse, please don’t kill me.”

Trying not to breathe does not help his panic. Nor does the fact that the creature is nothing that Stiles can recognize. The closest thing Stiles can point to is wolf, but if this is a wolf, it’s not a natural one, not a normal one by any stretch of the imagination. Everything about the creature is bigger, longer, more horrifying. That’s not how an animal should look. It’s stretched out half on the floor and half on top of Stiles, a heavy weight on top of him, and its eyes glow red.

Stiles is not so quietly freaking out. It could be a minute later or an hour later when the creature removes its teeth from Stiles’ throat. Stiles doesn’t dare move, not even when it licks Stiles’ throat. Oh god, Stiles is going to be murdered by a muted wolf or escaped animal testing subject or whatever it is. Of all the deaths Stiles imagined for himself, this isn’t the way he’d thought he’d go. But to his surprise, after the creature decides it’s had enough of licking Stiles’ throat, it settles down. It’s still resting on top of him, but it distributes its weight so that Stiles doesn’t feel like it’s about to be crushed.

Stiles swallows as the creature rests its creepily large head on Stiles’ chest. Its red eyes glow as it stares at Stiles. Is it saving him for later? Is he going to be a midnight snack? Is lying on top of Stiles a way of preparing its meat for consumption? A bit of flattening before it can properly eat him?

Heart pounding its way out of his chest, Stiles makes a small attempt to move. He aborts the motion when the creature growls at him.

“Never mind, you’re right, staying here,” Stiles rambles. When the creature doesn’t seem to have a bad reaction to his voice, he continues hopefully, “There’s food in the kitchen? Good food. You’d like it. Yesterday was dad’s monthly cheat dinner. We had steak. Yummy, yummy steak. So much tastier than my flesh and organs.”

The wolf huffs at him, its red eyes half-lidded but alert.

“Have you considered a different victim? I know a guy, Jackson, he has more tasty muscles for you to devour. I think you’d like eating him way more than you’d like me. I’m all skin and bone. No muscles. My organs have probably gone bad from energy drinks and junk food, while his are as perfect as his stupid hair.”

The creature doesn’t seem to appreciate his stunning argument. It also seems to have settled in for the long haul, just resting on top of Stiles as though that’s a completely normal thing. Why couldn’t it have chosen yesterday to pounce, when his dad hadn’t had a night shift? One bullet and Stiles would be free to have nightmares about this during his long life. His phone is out of reach and Stiles can already envision a return of the teeth if he yells for help. He’s stuck.

“I wonder if Harris will take nearly being eaten as an excuse for not finishing my homework. Or maybe you’re still planning to eat me. Are you? If you want a second opinion on that, my vote is for no. For all you know, I could come back as a ghost and make your life very uncomfortable. And Harris’, it would be great except the dick would probably find a way to make me do homework anyway.”

The wolf seems to be listening attentively. Maybe it likes the sound of Stiles’ voice. Maybe this is a thousand and one nights type of situation. If Stiles keeps it calm long enough, it’ll decide that it doesn’t really need to kill him. Since Stiles is already prone to talking while stressed, he continues. The wolf gets an earful of Stiles’ day to day life and is the test audience for a presentation Stiles has to do this week. But even Stiles can’t speak forever. He yawns through his words for a while, then quiets. He’s not as scared as he was when the creature first came. Fear is hard to keep up after more than an hour. He’s still uncomfortable and mildly terrified, but he’s not on the verge of a panic attack.

The last thing Stiles sees before he falls asleep is the creature’s red eyes. He may be proving his father’s lectures on his lack of self-preservation instincts right by falling asleep, but sue him, it’s been a long night.

When Stiles wakes up in the morning, he’s in his bed and the window is closed. He pulls up Scott’s number on his phone, but can’t bring himself to press the button. Was it a dream? Did Stiles sleepwalk into his bed after the creature left? Did his dad come home and help him into his bed? It’s unnerving not to know.

Maybe it really had just been his overactive imagination.

Stiles is left unmolested by wolflike creatures the next night, and the next, and the next. After about a month passes, Stiles lets his guard down. He still keeps his window closed and locked, but he doesn’t go to bed worried.

It’s a mistake.

Stiles wakes up in the middle of the night to a heavy weight settling itself on his chest. Red eyes peer at him from the darkness and the light of the full moon casts the creature in a pale glow. Stiles flails as he recognizes what’s happening, but like the last time, he doesn’t get very far. Instead of biting him, the creature just licks a stripe from his neck to his cheek.

“Ew, gross,” Stiles mutters. “Hello again, creepy wolf.” Stiles blames it on his sleep-deprived state and the fact that he can’t see the creature clearly in the darkness, and says, “Are you going to bite my arm off if I touch you?”

The creature licks him again. Stiles takes it as agreement and slowly raises his arm. He can’t see it as clearly as he could with the lights on, and it helps. Stiles can almost pretend that it isn’t a terrifying monster cuddling with him but a very large dog instead. A husky, maybe. Even as Stiles’ hand gets closer, the creature doesn’t growl. Instead, it pushes its head closer to Stiles’ hand, and Stiles gives a huff of half-hysteric laughter as he realizes it really doesn’t mind. He runs his hand along the top of the creature’s head and outlines its pointed ears. He even dares to stroke the creature’s weird as hell nose.

“Good boy,” Stiles crows, not realizing he’s said it until he gets a rumbling growl in response. But the creature doesn’t look angry. It’s not snapping its too-big teeth at him. “Good girl?” He gets a louder growl at that. “Good terrifying wolf-like monster?”

A huff of wolf breath right into Stiles’ face.

Stiles sighs at his weird visitor. “Thanks for not killing me. I’m too tired to be scared, so just do your thing. Ideally without eating my bones.”

The wolf makes a quiet noise that Stiles chooses to take as an agreement.

Stiles shifts a little to get into a comfortable position, which the wolf allows. Then he just throws caution to the wind and wraps his arms around the animal. The creature is warm, its fur soft, and the steady beat of its heart is more calming than it should be against Stiles’ chest. Already mostly asleep, Stiles murmurs, “You better not have fleas.”

The wolf’s huff sounds almost like laughter.

In the morning, Stiles is alone, and he remembers that his dad had been in the master bedroom across the hall all night. He could’ve just called out for help. But weirdly enough considering that he’s being stalked by a creature with huge fangs that weighs more than him, Stiles doesn’t feel like he’s on death’s edge. Stiles doesn’t tell his dad or Scott. It’s a barely believable tale even to Stiles, who actually saw the wolf in the flesh.

He keeps a lookout for the wolf around town, trying to catch sight of it on the outskirts of the lacrosse field during gym or as he drives past the preserve to go home. He even considers buying some dog treats, but thinks the creature may actually kill him for that one.

The next time it happens, Stiles is more surprised than afraid when a mass of dark fur knocks him to the ground. The creature is early this time, taking advantage of the fact that Stiles’ dad has another night shift. Stiles has no idea how it keeps getting in; none of the windows had been broken and he hadn’t heard anything this time either. Stiles puts the thought out of his mind as he pets the creature with both hands. The creature is still terrifying, but it looks happy to be petted and stroked.

“This is weirdly sweet,” Stiles tells the wolf, “But I have things to do tonight. Come on, we can cuddle later.”

The wolf whines at him, looking extremely reluctant to get up.

Stiles taps it on the nose. “How about I feed you and you can lay on me on the couch while I’m on my laptop? It’ll be the same thing as this, just more productive for both of us.”

With a huff, the wolf stands.

Stiles definitely doesn’t miss the weight of it against him. There’s nothing to miss. When he’s on his own two legs again, Stiles takes a good look at the wolf. It’s the first time Stiles has seen the wolf from this angle and shit, the wolf is huge. “Do you think I could ride you like a horse?”

The wolf responds with an unwolflike glare and gently catches Stiles’ shirt between his teeth, tugging Stiles out of the bedroom. Stiles threads his hand through the wolf’s fur as they head downstairs together. He doesn’t examine why. Stiles takes a large plate from the cupboard, then a bowl for water. For himself, he grabs a smaller plate. His hand hovers over the silverware.

“So, werewolves, huh?” Stiles asks, glancing back at the wolf.

The wolf raises one bushy eyebrow, then looks demandingly between Stiles and the lasagna on the stove.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. “You’ll have to explain yourself one day, though.”

It’s a win-win situation. Either the wolf is a regular wolf and thus doesn’t understand Stiles’ mistaken assumption, or he’s a werewolf and will know that Stiles expects him to follow at least a few well-known social rules. Namely, eating people is bad and no mud in the house. Stiles doesn’t think it’s all that much to expect from his monthly freeloader. Considering the unnatural way the wolf looks and the fact that he’s arrived on three full moons, it’s not that much of a stretch to assume there’s a werewolf underneath all that fur. Stiles sets the wolf’s bowls down in the kitchen and heads over to the living room with his plate. He sets himself up nicely in the corner of the couch, plate on the side table, feet on the coffee table, and laptop balancing on the side of the couch. Usually, he’d just put it on his lap, but he can already see his wolf pouting at that.

The wolf joins him a little while later with no stray bits of lasagna in his fur, which Stiles appreciates. He curls up beside Stiles, overly large head in Stiles’ lap and a satisfied look in his red eyes.

“Do you want the TV on?” Stiles asks.

The wolf blinks at him.

Stiles sighs and scratches him behind one pointy ear. “Yes or no?”

After a few moments of silence, the wolf bobs his head. Stiles doesn’t try his luck further. His curiosity is going to kill him one of these days, but there’s probably a reason for the wolf’s silence. Maybe he hasn’t been human for years, or maybe his pack kicked him out because of his weird form. Maybe Stiles is off-base, but the wolf strikes him as a lonely creature, curling up next to a teenager he doesn’t even know when he could be running through the preserve instead.

Stiles flips channels until the wolf barks quietly at the first news channel.

“Lame,” Stiles tells him, laughing when the wolf lightly nips at his hand in reply. “Very lame. But at least it’s not Fox.”

After a while, Stiles flips on Iron Man in order to properly educate the wolf on the human existence. The wolf actually rolls his eyes at Stiles when Stiles tells him so, but there’s no need to live in a world without watching a few key pieces of media and Stiles doubts the wolf has a TV wherever he lives. It’s in the intense way the wolf watches the news, the way even old news seems new to him. Stiles can’t help but feel something about that.

The wolf is gone in the morning, but he arrives without fail every full moon and begins to drop by during other stages of the moon. Stiles mentally adds _‘can shift whenever they want, maybe only at night?’_ to his knowledge of werewolves and doesn’t tell a soul. It wouldn’t be hard to arrange for his dad or Scott to accidentally on purpose see the wolf, but Stiles does the opposite, hiding the wolf when his dad comes by to check on Stiles. The wolf may be pushy and possessive of Stiles, but Stiles is possessive in return. He enjoys his time with his wolf. He isn’t going to break the trust growing between them or give the wolf a reason to stop returning to Stiles.

As the weeks pass, Stiles notices subtle changes in the wolf’s appearance. The wolf’s patchy fur grows darker and silkier and begins to cover all of his body. His limbs change, becoming less science-gone-very-wrong and more actually-a-wolf. His ears look less like a bat’s and more like a dog’s. In short, his wolf actually begins to look like a wolf, except for the fact that he doesn’t get smaller as his appearance changes. Instead he seems to fill out, proportions looking more natural but still larger than nature could ever provide. The top of the wolf’s head nearly reaches Stiles’ shoulders when the wolf stands regularly on all four paws.

Stiles didn’t mind the wolf’s former appearance once he got used to it, but he can’t deny that the wolf looks better now. The changes also bring a change in his wolf’s personality. The wolf walks more confidently and gives up the ghost of pretending to be a normal wolf, rearing up to open doors and carefully pressing buttons on the remote. And best of all, his wolf becomes a much softer cuddling companion, even if Stiles’ bed if only barely large enough to fit them both.

Stiles feels like he finally understands why dogs are man’s best friend, even if the phrase wasn’t meant to apply to teenagers and their pet werewolves. But his wolf listens to him, cares about him, makes sure that Stiles eats properly every evening he comes by. He allows Stiles to take care of him, sitting through Stiles brushing his fur and checking him for ticks the wolf could’ve picked up in the preserve. It may be embarrassing for the werewolf, but Stiles isn’t about to let him needlessly suffer. If this isn’t friendship, then Stiles doesn’t know what is.

It’s a late spring evening when the doorbell rings. Stiles can’t think of who it might be. His dad is at work and Scott would’ve texted to say he was dropping by. As he opens the door, he hopes that whoever it is will leave quickly, because Stiles has a movie date with his favorite wolf.

There’s a man on the other side of the door. He’s dark-haired, attractive, dressed in a black v-neck sweater and dark jeans. Stiles doesn’t recognize him, but he feels familiar all the same.

“Hello, Stiles,” the man says. “My name is Peter.”

Stiles has never heard his voice before, but he’s seen that quiet, powerful possessiveness in another set of eyes. Gentle with his strength, but still a bitey jerk when he wants something from Stiles. Peter doesn’t say anything more, just waiting with a hint of a smirk on his lips. There’s a weird feeling in Stiles’ chest, and he wonders why he’d ever looked for his wolf in people he met, when he should’ve known he’d be able to instantly recognize him on sight. No matter what form his wolf takes, no matter that Peter isn’t speaking, his wolf calls to Stiles.

And only Stiles’ wolf would be arrogant enough to walk up to Stiles’ door and expect Stiles to recognize him. “You look different,” Stiles muses, meeting Peter’s eyes. “Did you get a haircut?”

Peter gives him a look. “Really?”

“You got your teeth filed, that’s what it is,” Stiles says, snapping his fingers. “And you’re wearing clothes for once.”

Peter rolls his eyes, but the start of a smile has overtaken his smirk. “I can change that if you insist.”

He’s attractive. Too attractive. Stiles’ mind goes to quite a different place when he thinks about cuddling with this version of his wolf. But he wants everything else, too. Explanations, companionship, the easy affection the wolf bestowed on him that Stiles doesn’t think he’ll lack from this version of his wolf, who looks at him like there’s no one else in the world except for Stiles.

“Only if you bring the fur out,” Stiles replies.

The moon is bright and high above them. There is a creature under Peter’s human skin.

Stiles welcomes him inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm also on [tumblr](https://crownwithoutstones.tumblr.com/).


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